


Better on Both of Us

by thatawkwardfriend



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Sherlock's Coat, coat sharing, scavenger hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatawkwardfriend/pseuds/thatawkwardfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John sets up a scavenger hunt for Sherlock's birthday, but nothing seems to go as planned, for better or worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better on Both of Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I wrote this for the Sherlock Challenge. July prompt: domestic crimes. I know I'm super late with this, sorry! I also know that this technically isn't a 'crime' but its still domestic, I guess.  
> Hope you like it! Please leave a comment :)

"John."  
....  
_"John."_

"Mm?" John tried to reply innocently from his chair as he pretended to read the paper. Sherlock was standing at the entry of 221B with his shoes on, preparing to head out. When he was unable to find his coat or scarf, he turned accusingly at John, who was smiling into his paper.

"Where's my coat? And scarf?" 

"Why should I know?"

"Because you're very obviously _not_ reading that paper and attempting to hide your face while you lie to me about not knowing where they are.”

John chuckled at his partner’s deduction. They had been dating for five months now, and he still never failed to be impressed by him, even with the simplest displays of his genius. “Don’t even know why you’d want to wear that thing out anyway.” 

About two weeks ago, he and Sherlock had been on a very dangerous case that involved a nasty fire. The outer clothes they were wearing became completely severely damaged. John replaced his coat, but Sherlock refused and stuck with a burned and charred coat and scarf. 

"John, I'm serious. Lestrade just phoned. We need to go."

"On your birthday?"

"As I've told you countless times before, I see no reason to bother with such pointless and tedious matters. Come on, we have a case." 

"Well you'll need to find your stuff first." 

John looked up from his paper and grinned smugly at Sherlock, who was attempting to pin him with a menacing glare. When John didn't budge or break the eye contact for a full minute, Sherlock huffed dramatically and bent down to remove his shoes. 

_"Don't see why you would even bother..."_ he grumbled to himself as he roughly undid the laces. John chuckled to himself as he watched the taller man huff and puff like a child being forced to do as they were told. 

"Oh, by the way, it'd be better if you kept those on," he said, glancing at the shoes.

“If you insist.” Sherlock leapt up and dove into their shelves, shoving things about and tossing items behind him. "Honestly, John, if you insisted on doing something for my stupid birthday, a simple dinner date would have done." 

"Oh, don't be like that, love. We go to dinner all the time. It’s our first time celebrating your birthday together and I wanted to do something special.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes way more dramatically than necessary, and furiously continued to make a mess of the living room on his hands and knees. Eventually, John took pity on the poor man.

"If you absolutely needed a coat and didn’t have yours, what’s the next thing you would go to?” Sherlock immediately leapt up and stormed to where John's coat was hanging beside the spot where his own should have been. 

“Yes?”

John grinned and glanced down at the pockets. Sherlock immediately caught on and dove in. After fumbling around a bit in various pockets, he pulled out a small, green piece of paper. 

“What's this?"

"A scavenger hunt!"

"A scavenger hunt, John?! Really?" 

"Will you just shut up and go with it, you big baby?" With another dramatic huff, Sherlock read the paper out loud in mock-excitement.

"Detective Sherlock Holmes' coat and scarf have been stolen! But luckily, the culprit left behind some clues." Sherlock looked to John’s coat pockets again before digging in and pulling out one of John's gloves. 

By now, Sherlock was, at the very least, intrigued by John's little mystery. John smiled to himself from his chair as he watched his partner inspect the glove, his expression as focused and intense as if he were on a real case. 

"You've had these gloves for about four, no, five years. Been through all types of wear and tear. But you only lost one. So you had to remove them for some reason, and left the other behind. The tips of the thumb, index, and ring finger are dirty." Sherlock sniffed and dabbed his tongue on the material. "Crumbs. Cookie crumbs. And the back of the glove is damp with a single streak of..." Another taste. "Milk. You had cookies and milk. Who would give a grown man cookies and milk?" Realization dawned on him. 

"Come, John! Mrs. Hudson's flat!" The man flew out the door without waiting for John, all thoughts of leaving the flat without his coat and scarf gone. 

*****

When Mrs. Hudson opened the door for them, Sherlock immediately pecked a quick kiss on her cheek and entered without invitation. John followed and apologized with a small smile. 

"Here already?" she asked.

"Yeah. Didn't take him long once he was captivated Nearly tore apart the living room in the process." The two of them watched amused as the 38-year-old man bustled around the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers. 

"So John had the cookies and milk, and then lost a glove here. Meaning he intended to eat quickly and then leave, not bothering to remove his gloves, but then had to take at least one off for some reason. What could have made him stay?" He looked around the flat like a dog tracking scent, completely engrossed in the mystery of it all. 

He spotted a broom in the corner and made his way towards it. "This broom is not usually out like this. It's been recently used." He looked in the trash can. "Broken glass and lots of wet napkins.” After breathing in a huge whiff of the garbage, he continued, “A glass of milk must have spilt and you stayed to help her clean it up." He opened the cabinet which contained Mrs. Hudson's glasses and found an envelope. He snatched it up and tore it open, clearly pleased with himself. 

"It's only cash. Just a few dollars." He looked up at John, desperate for help but both he and Mrs. Hudson shrugged in mock-helplessness. Turning away from them, he scanned the flat for more ideas. He turned to the oven and grabbed the handle.

“Wait, no!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. But it was too late. Sherlock yanked the oven door open, and a large puff of dark smoke erupted into the flat. An alarm blared as the three of them made their ways to to door, coughing into their sleeves. 

***** 

“I’m so sorry. I knew they were burnt. I meant to clean it up, but didn’t have time before you boys showed up.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Hudson. We’re sorry about all of this.” The three of them stood waiting outside the flat as the fire department finished making sure everything was on the up and up. After five minutes, they ensured them it was safe to go back inside and left.

“I was supposed to have a fresh batch of cookies ready for you, Sherlock. We were all going to have snack together before you two continued on your way,” she said as they headed back inside.

“Don’t worry about it,” John said. “Not everything can go exactly as planned, I suppose. You sure you’ll be alright?”

“Oh yes, don’t worry about me. It really wasn’t necessary for them to come. It was just burnt cookies after all. Sherlock! You haven’t finished deciphering the clue!”

They all turned to him as he looked back into the cabinets. "Mrs. Hudson, you lost one glass from the spill, but you still have plenty more." He nearly leapt across the kitchen in one over enthusiastic stride. Yanking the fridge open, he said "But the last of your milk was spilled. You needed some more." 

"That's right, dear!” said Mrs. Hudson.

“YES!” Sherlock exclaimed. He turned on John, picked him up from his waist, and spun him in the air. “I am on a ROLL!” 

“Yes, alright. Put me down, love,” John said chuckling while putting his hands up in defense. Sherlock obeyed, but only after pecking a happy kiss on his cheek. John put his hand to the spot and reddened. 

Mrs. Hudson found all of this to be vastly entertaining. “Happy birthday, dear. So sweet of John to do all of this-"

"Yes, yes. Heartwarming. Come, John! To the supermarket.” With this, he grabbed a red-faced John and pulled him out the door. 

*****

“You know, Sherlock. You could have told me you were banned from every supermarket in London,” John said as he and Sherlock strode out of the parking lot after being thrown out by the backs of their shirt collars. 

“It’s not my fault I had an idiot for a cashier eight years ago.” 

“Yeah, well, you could’ve done without calling the manager stupid just now, and telling him his wife was cheating on him with four different people.”

“In fairness though, he was an idiot, too.”

John merely glared at him in reply. “Anyway, this does put a bit of a damper on my plans for the rest of the evening.” He looked up. Menacing thunder clouds were rolling in.

Sherlock followed John’s gaze to the sky, confused. “Problem?”

“Erm, no. Well, yeah. It’s… fine. The next stop was supposed to be Angelo’s. So let’s just head there.” 

*****

Due to the mishap at the supermarket, they showed up nearly an hour early for John’s dinner reservation for two. While they were, Sherlock started chuckling to himself.

“What?”

“Remember the first time we came here? The day we met, I believe?”

John smiled warmly at the memory. “What about it?”

“You were so about to to ask me out. Goodness, John. So eager, even then.”

“Now hang on a minute! I wasn’t-”

“Oh please.” He mimicked John’s voice and desperation. “Do you have a girlfriend? How about a boyfriend? No? Could I be your boyfriend? Please Sherlock, I’ve never met anyone as fascinating and stunningly attractive as you. You’re brilliant, fantastic, and I wish to take you to bed immediately!” He resumed speaking in his own voice. “Honestly, John. Anyone with eyes could have seen it.”

John wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the imitation or punch the man for his accuracy. Regardless, Sherlock was clearly enjoying the dumbfounded look on his face. John decided he’d rather punch the self-satisfied smile off of his. 

“Well at least I didn’t turn down a perfectly good opportunity for a shag because I’m ‘married to my work.’ I mean, what kind of pathetic excuse was that?”

“Ha! So you were trying to get a shag out of me!” 

“No! I never said –“

“I mean, who could blame you, honestly. I really am quite charming, as you so kindly stated in your blog entry about said evening,” he said smugly. 

John gave up on denying what his intentions were that night and instead pulled the taller man down by the front of his shirt and pressed a sloppy kiss to his mouth. 

“Yes, you are, you big, arrogant git.” 

Sherlock’s face reddened just as John’s had in Mrs. Hudson’s flat. They had only been dating a few months, and were still unaccustomed to casual kisses and touches, still getting butterflies as if it were the first time. Their hands met and interlocked between them as they shared a warm, knowing smile, both obviously thinking about how instantly infatuated they were with each other that night.

Although John had been upset earlier that his evening out with Sherlock was not going exactly as planned, he decided now that the hunt didn’t matter. He was still spending time with Sherlock, who was still unconditionally enjoying every moment of their outing. 

Sherlock began stroking the back of John’s hand with his thumb affectionately, and their smiles widened. Yes, it clearly didn’t matter to Sherlock either. He had said earlier that a simple dinner date would do. All he wanted was to spend time together, just like John. And now here they were, both partially getting their wish no matter how the scavenger hunt ended up going. 

Angelo entered the waiting area and they both broke their gazes to look at him. John’s stomach growled expectedly, but he frowned at Angelo’s expression. 

He wringed his wrists and looked apologetically between the two of them. “I am so, so sorry.” John’s heart sank…

“It seems there’s been a slight mix up in the reservations for this evening. We have double booked your table by mistake. Any other day, I would give you two the best seats in the house, free meals, all of it. But you see, my niece is bringing her fiancé here for their anniversary. She’d never forgive me.” He looked at John an extra moment, begging for forgiveness with his eyes. 

“That’s fine. When will another table be available?” 

“Not for another hour or so, I’m afraid. Possibly more.”

“It’s alright. We’ll get takeout.” He took Sherlock’s hand and started pulling him gently towards the door, his hopes for a wonderful evening draining. 

Before stepping out the door, he stopped in his tracks. “Oh, and Angelo-“

“Yes,” he replied, pulling out a large bag from under a counter. “Here you are. John, I am truly, very sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” John said, taking the bag. “Take care.” 

*****

Once they were far down the street, John looked up at the sky completely covered in dark, ominous clouds. “Well, there go my plans for the next stop as well,” he said miserably. 

“John, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I was going to take you to the park. We were going to find a nice spot, covered by some trees and watch the sunset.” Sherlock opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say to comfort him.

“I mean, I know you don’t like to do much for your birthday, but it was our first time as a couple, and I really just wanted to do something special. And I know it doesn’t really matter what we do, cause spending time together is what makes it special, but… I still wanted everything to go well. Dinner, sunset… it was supposed to be great.” 

They continued walking down the dark, deserted street as soft raindrops began to fall lightly on their heads. A hint of thunder echoed in the distance, but the heat of the storm was still far away. Sherlock watched the collecting water gush over his feet as he stepped, still unsure of what to say to John. How to express his genuine gratitude for all he had planned. How to convince him of how much he truly enjoyed deciphering his clues. And how he wouldn’t have wanted to spend his birthday any other way, or with any other person. 

“What’s in the bag?” he asked, wanting to break the miserable silence. 

“I was supposed to give this to you over a candlelit dinner at Angelo’s. He stopped and faced Sherlock, handing him the bag. “It’s your present.” 

“It’s a new coat isn’t it?” he said without a second’s hesitation. 

“I… yeah,” he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head and looking down. The rain was quickly picking up, causing both of their thin shirts to cling to their bodies. “Wasn’t a difficult guess to make, I suppose. With your old, damaged coat and scarf ‘going missing’ at the beginning of the scavenger hunt.” 

Sherlock reached in the bag and pulled out a brand new Belstaff coat, exactly like his old one. The one he knew and loved and refused to give up even though it was completely destroyed. John had even sewed a red outline on the top button. The material was fresh and clean under his fingers, already damping from the sprinkling rain. Sherlock slipped his arms through the sleeves. It was perfect. In every way. 

“John…” he started. 

“There’s… one more… in the bag.” 

Sherlock reached in again and pulled out a brand new scarf. But this one was different. It was a deep purple, its silky satin glimmering in the rain. Sherlock ran his fingers through the unbelievably soft material, letting it fall through his fingers like liquid. 

“It reminded me of that purple shirt of yours that I like. I just thought you might like something different. But if you want your old one, blue and cotton, I can return it. It’s fine. Not a big deal. I just thought you might like this one. But if you don’t, it’s okay.” 

Sherlock looked up at John. The rain was now heavily pouring down on them. John's hair was flattened down on his forehead. Rain was sliding down his face and the bridge of his nose. He suddenly knew how he would tell John just how he felt about his birthday and the gift. He cupped the back of John’ head, pulled him in, and kissed him fiercely, pouring every ounce of gratitude he had into it. When they broke, John gazed up at him delighted. 

“So you like it then?”

“John, it’s perfect. Today was perfect. Thank you.” John broke out into a huge grin and took the scarf from Sherlock. He looped it around his neck, almost having to stand on his tip-toes, and then hitched his coat collar up. 

“There,” he said with a satisfied smile. The dark, deep purple looked magnificent and utterly alluring against Sherlock’s pale, white neck, streaked with sliding raindrops. Sherlock smiled lovingly down at him as the shorter man cupped his face in his hands. “Perfect.”

A full body shudder ran through John as thunder lightly cracked in the distance. Sherlock pulled him snug against his body and wrapped his coat around both of them. The tips of their noses touched as he watched rain sliding down the other man’s lips. 

“I should have brought my coat,” John breathed, shivering in the rain. 

“I’m glad you didn’t. Mine looks better on both of us anyway.” With that, their lips crashed together. John pulled Sherlock’s face in as close as he could get, his tongue lapping against his already wet lips. He licked his was into his mouth and dragged his fingers through Sherlock’s wet and flattened curls, holding on tightly. Sherlock leaned over John and pulled him in even closer, slightly dipping him. He held his coat tightly around John and supported him by his back. John’s arms wrapped around Sherlock’s shoulders and the back of his head as they kissed on. 

They broke apart simultaneously gasping for breath, thick raindrops racing down their faces. A moment later, they tilted their heads the opposite direction and suctioned their lips together once more. They breathed each other in. Their wet lips slid against each other marvelously as the kiss grew deeper and deeper, rougher and more desperate. When they finally broke for breath again, John smiled up at Sherlock and ran his finger along the purple satin scarf, wet and clinging to his pale neck. 

“Happy birthday, love.”


End file.
